


A Grain of Sand

by rebellconquerer



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), BAMF Katara, BAMF Suki, Eventual Romance, F/M, Not Canon Compliant, Politics, Slow Burn, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, but he is trying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:07:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29568663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebellconquerer/pseuds/rebellconquerer
Summary: "I won't lie to you and say this place is safe. Nowhere is safe for us. But to make sure we are all risking equally, I'm going to start. You all will follow or you will not be allowed to leave." His voice doesn't lose that sturdy but pleasant quality, even as he threatens them, making eye contact with each to show how serious he is.The pause seems to drag out for an eternity, the only sound the rapid-fire beat of her heart rushing in her ears. The firestarter attaches the waterskin back to his belt before he seems to stare straight at her."I am here to kill the Firelord.".......Five years since Sozin's Comet finds Zuko struggling to come into his own as the Firelord while trying to figure out what to do with the fire nation colonies, a politically complex problem that may or may not have something to do with the uptick in his assassination attempts. Mix in team avatar, an increasing new awareness of Katara and you have a all the elements of a rocking good time.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

Prologue

The rain has finally let up, leaving the whole place muggy and wet. As much water left dangling in the air in the late evening humidity as collecting in dirty puddles on unpaved roads.

The heat is oppressive, even worse with the hood up, but she'd rather no one remember anything about her. She huddles further into herself and speeds up her steps. Her path is unfamiliar but she's as likely to draw attention for her complexion as appearing uncertain. This isn't a place for tourists.

She approaches the public square, the smell of fried meat curling unpleasantly with wet earth. The sound of laughter rings out across the open space. Her eyes narrow at the gaggle of older women gathered at a shop window, too focused on gossiping to pay attention to their surroundings. Arrogant. Even the peasants of this country don't know their place.

She grits her teeth and keeps her head down, keeping her shoulders relaxed and her steps light. Now isn't the time or place.

She turns onto a small lane off the main. The yards here are mostly dirt, with little patches of grass here and there fighting for the right to exist. Small grey stone houses sag tiredly on either side of the street.

It is into one of these dirt yards that she enters. She passes by the main house and heads to a small apartment, barely more than a shack really, in the back.

She doesn't hesitate. This is where she was meant to be. This is where her life has taken her. She knocks carefully and manages to hide her surprise when a white-haired woman opens the door, a dour look etched on her ancient features.

"It is hard to travel by the dark of the new moon." She says clearly. The woman's eyes narrow, flicking quickly down her person, before her narrow lips purse. Her expression does not warm.

"It is bright inside, child." She has a peculiar accent, like the words don't fit well behind her thin, dry lips, but the words are correct and she steps inside quickly.

She follows a cramped, dimly lit hallway to a surprisingly open and light sitting room. Two large windows cover the back wall of the room, propped open, allowing delicate curtains with age-yellowed edges to flutter in the small breeze. There are more people than she expected in the room. About 8 in total. She allows her gaze to drag along each, evaluating for the turncoat that always seems to find themselves in these settings.

An older man walks in a few minutes later and says something to the old crone. She grunts and heads back outside, the click of the lock as she leaves is loud and ominous. She eyes the newcomer closely. His bedraggled clothes seem almost fashionably tattered. His shoes are shiny and clearly made from good quality leather. Everything about him screams money. No, not just money, class. No matter how dirty and dressed down he is right now, he can't hide the way he holds himself, how his amber eyes look down his perfect equine nose at the rest of the world. A fucking firebender. She'd bet her life.

She seethes quietly, hand itching to reach for the dagger hidden neatly under her clothes. One less firestarter in the world is always a good thing in her book. She breathes deeply through her nose trying to reign in her rage. This is not the time.

The fire bender clears his throat, and steps easily to the centre of the room.

"You all know why we are here. You know we are running out of time to right the wrongs that have been done. Just by being here, we are risking a brutal execution. But we cannot achieve our goal without some trust." He pauses and takes a sip of water from the waterskin on his hip.

She holds her breath, uncertain about this man and this place that looks so much like her enemy. She knew this could have been a trap coming here, but it was worth it. It IS worth it.

"I won't lie to you and say this place is safe. Nowhere is safe for us. But to make sure we are all risking equally, I'm going to start. You all will follow or you will not be allowed to leave." His voice doesn't lose that sturdy but pleasant quality, even as he threatens them, making eye contact with each to show how serious he is.

The pause seems to drag out for an eternity, the only sound the rapid-fire beat of her heart rushing in her ears. The firestarter attaches the waterskin back to his belt before he seems to stare straight at her.

"I am here to kill the Firelord."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Later, when he's looking back at it, Zuko will be pissed at how much he missed. He will quietly rage at Uncle that these are the kinds of lapses that make him unfit to be fire lord. He'll think back and notice that, though his guards excel at disappearing into the shadows, it was unusual that he would see none of them. He'll notice after the fact that the windows leading to his quarters, typically bolted in the nights, were open, allowing cool air to flow and ruffle his robes as he walked to his rooms. He will notice that the lanterns in his rooms were allowed to go dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all. This is my first piece of published work, really ever, so please be gentle with me. It is unbetaed, so all constructive feedback is welcome!
> 
> For the purpose of this, the original series took place over a year and this is 4 years after the end of the war. So Zuko is 21, Sokka 20, Katara 19, Aang 17 etc etc.
> 
> Comments are love.

The small ball makes a loud smack followed by 2 hollowed thumps as it makes its way from Sokka's hand, to the corner of the wall, to the floor, then back to his hand. 

Over and over again.

It's almost soothing.

"What about a massive works project? Something… something that would entice people to return for work?" Sokka suggests. His hand never falters and his gaze doesn't leave the little ball.

Zuko shakes his head slightly, trying to refocus. He sits up at his desk. His back is killing him, an unpleasant burn curling along the tense muscles. He arches into a stretch as he thinks.

It's not a bad idea. 

"What would the project be?" He replies. 

Sokka groans, hands continuing to move through the motions of throwing and catching the ball.

"I don't know. Massive bridge maybe? Between here and Ember island? Maybe making more roadways. In the end, would it matter?" Sokka can't hide the edge of frustration in his voice. 

Zuko leans back against his chair, following the arc of the ball from the wall back to Sokka's hand. God, he's tired. 

"I suppose not, but what do we do with the people who don't want to leave. The people who are married and have been there for generations. The people that consider themselves more Earth Kingdom than Fire Nation?" 

Sokka misses the ball on its arc and it flies across the room, narrowly missing what, Zuko is sure, is a priceless vase. His gaze goes back to a very concerned looking Sokka, his eyes wide. 

For a moment there is silence and then the laugh claws its way past Zuko's throat. It starts off small initially, just a chuckle, but he can feel the hysterics rising in him and soon he is bent almost in half with laughter. He glances up again and sees Sokka staring at him with mild confusion and not a little bit of concern. That somehow makes him laugh harder.

Soon his stomach aches from the laughter and there are tears gathering at the corner of his eyes. He tries to take a few gasping breaths to get himself under control.

"Are you okay?" Sokka says, looking at him like he's gone loony. Oh, Zuko can't blame him. He feels a little loopy as it is.

"Yeah, yeah." He says between gasps. "Just tired. Don't even worry about it." Another small giggle escapes from him and Sokka has now clearly decided Zuko has gone off his rocker. Zuko bats a dismissive hand at him. "I'm too tired to be useful." He says lightly.

He hears Sokka mutter something that sounds suspiciously like 'I'll say,' but ignores him as he stands. 

"I'm going to bed. I've gotta meet with Yun pretty early anyway, and your sister and Aang are coming in tomorrow."

Sokka nods slightly, still regarding him carefully. Zuko has to work to suppress another laugh at that as he walks out of Sokka's converted office.

Later, when he's looking back at it, Zuko will be pissed at how much he missed. He will quietly rage at Uncle that these are the kinds of lapses that make him unfit to be fire lord. He'll think back and notice that, though his guards excel at disappearing into the shadows, it was unusual that he would see none of them. He'll notice after the fact that the windows leading to his quarters, typically bolted in the nights, were open, allowing cool air to flow and ruffle his robes as he walked to his rooms. He will notice that the lanterns in his rooms were allowed to go dark.

In the moment though, all he notices is how tired he feels and how much he has to do in the morning. It is not until he is in the dark of his sitting room that the little hairs on the back of his neck stand up, warning him almost too late, that he is not alone.

He aims a bright spark of fire towards where he knows a lantern to be and in the light realizes there is a hooded figure standing next to the open doors of his private garden. A moment later the figure launches at the lantern and, as it falls and breaks, the light extinguishes. 

Zuko's body responds before his mind catches up, dropping into a defensive stance. He shouts for his guard as he hears the schlink of a sword leaving its sheath. On autopilot, he aims two fireballs in the direction of the sound, that fizzle as they hit the wall.

His would-be assassin is fast, getting into his space in 2 steps. He feels the air shift as he dodges backwards, narrowly missing the slice of the blade. He ducks down as the blade swings where his neck was, kicking up at his attacker. His foot makes a solid connection with his attacker's abdomen. It knocks them off balance but doesn't slow them down. The next slash comes for his abdomen as he dances back away. 

His mind is racing and his breath is coming quickly as his adrenaline spikes. He raises his arms above his head, taking a deep, focusing breath before he swings out with his open palm to the sky. A wall of fire leaps up between him and his assassin, tall enough to lick at the ceiling.

"Guards!" Zuko calls again, and a second later the dark figure leaps through the flame, knocking into him. The force of the blow propels both of them through the partially closed door leading back to the corridor. He feels wood splinter behind him as the door shatters under their combined weight. 

They go down hard. Pain lances up Zuko's back, sharp enough to knock the breath from him. The assassin crawls over to him immediately, lashing out with two punishing blows to his jaw that leave him reeling. He tries to turn away, scrambling along the floor, but his attacker doesn't pause. Strong hands grab unto his robes and then the figure is rising above him. He barely catches the glint of something shiny before his attacker is coming down hard with a dragon blade dagger. Zuko catches the arm mid-swing, holding steadfastly to his attacker's wrist. The assassin immediately adds their other arm to the hand holding the dagger, combining the effort and weight pressing down on Zuko. Panic bubbles in Zuko's chest, his heart threatening to beat through his skin as the blade moves closer to his throat. Zuko heats his palm past what must be the point of pain, burning through the assassin's long sleeves and into pliant skin.

His attacker grits their teeth through the pain for 1, 2 seconds before they scream and fling themself away from him. 

Zuko rolls smoothly to his feet, lighting a fireball in each palm as he finally hears footsteps running behind him. 

He finally gets a good look at his assassin. Dressed in all black with a balaclava over their face, nothing but brown eyes exposed. His attacker's eyes dart from the ruined skin of their arm to Zuko, to the guards racing down the corridor. 

"You have nowhere to go. If you surrender and talk, no harm will come to you." Zuko pants out, reading the trapped panic in the eyes ahead of him. 

There is a moment suspended in time when neither moves, but the running footsteps of Zuko's guard continue to grow loud behind him. A second later the figure in front of him turns and darts down the hall, away from Zuko and away from his guards. Zuko takes off after them, speeding down the corridor, twisting around corners.

The figure leads him through the residential wing of the palace into the guest wing as Zuko starts gaining on them. He's fucking sick of the constant threats and attempts on his life. 

He wants answers and he's going to get them. 

The thought teases the fire constantly burning in his gut into a raging inferno and he puts on a sudden burst of speed as he pants out smoke. 

The figure darts into a hallway overlooking caldera city and comes to a sudden stop as they realise they have run into a dead end.

Zuko comes to a screeching halt. His chest and arms burn with the exertion. He stops ten feet away from his attacker, trying to open his stance a little. As much as he wants to let his anger take over, as much as he wants to scream and throw fire, he needs the information more. 

"You have nowhere to go," Zuko repeats.

The assassin regards him long enough for the sound of his guards' footsteps to catch up to them. 

Dark eyes dart to him, then out to the city and Zuko knows a moment before the figure moves. 

"No!" He shouts flinging himself at his attacker a second too late as they jump from the balcony. Zuko is there almost immediately, peering into the dark foliage that marks the border of the royal grounds. He sees nothing. He hears nothing. 

He shouts his displeasure into the night, feeling his fingers curl tightly, almost painfully against the low railing of the bannister.

"Sir! Are you ok?" Zenia's voice comes out loud and sharp in the stillness of the night. Zuko looks up at the head of his personal guard, and whatever Zenia sees on his face has her taking a step back.

Fuck. He needs to hold it together better than this. He pulls sharply back on his anger, trying to leash it.

"I'm fine. There was an intruder. Unsure of the gender. About 5.5 feet tall, dark clothes, brown eyes. They leapt from this balcony. Find them or their body." Zuko says steadily.

"Yessir!" Zenia salutes crisply before turning on her heel and speeding off with some of the guards. 

Sokka comes running onto the balcony a moment later, fear written clear across his features.

"Zuko, what the hell?" Sokka asks, already invading Zuko's personal space, patting him down in an aggressive once over. Zuko can't help the grunt that escapes when Sokka's hands poke at a sore spot on his ribs.

"You need a healer. " Sokka says, already starting to pull Zuko after him. Zuko shakes Sokka's hand off him. 

"I'm fine." He says tersely.

Sokka purses his lips, looking displeased. Zuko hates that look. He swears the water tribe has the market cornered on quiet disappointment.

"What the hell Zuko?" He says quietly.

Zuko takes a deep calming breath, reaching for the well of stillness in him that has been growing slowly. The rage within him lessens minutely, leaving more fear than he is comfortable with. He meets the concerned blue of Sokka's eyes.

"Another one," Zuko says matter of factly.

Sokka looks painfully young with fear on his face. He nods slightly.

"You don't look so hot," Sokka says with a note of finality. Zuko nods and stands to face his remaining guards who have fanned out to protect the entrance to the little balcony.

"I'll need a report as soon as we have more information… and I'll need a healer." 

*************************

Zuko does a poor job of stifling a yawn in his sleeve as they watch the ship come slowly into the dock.

"Stop that!" Sokka grumbles. "You didn't have to come." 

Zuko grumbles, not particularly intelligently. 

"Looks better for politics. Besides I'm excited to see them too." 

Sokka rolls his eyes and bounces a little on the balls of his feet. Their night had continued long past midnight as the palace was searched for the intruder and Sokka refused to leave Zuko alone. 

No-one had found his almost assassin, and no body had been recovered. The Agni damned bastard was still out there. Zuko shakes his head trying to push the thoughts away. Both the royal palace guard and the state police were investigating, not that it had done him much good before. This was his 2nd assassination attempt in 3 months. Certainly less than in the beginning, but a troubling uptick nonetheless. 

"Katara!" Sokka yells loud enough to wake the dead. Zuko glances at him and he's almost vibrating in excitement. It warms something deep in him to see his friend so happy, so young. 

Katara's yell is slightly less painful, but the two siblings take off towards each other like a shot. They all but tackle each other, Sokka lifting his sister off her feet. Her laugh rings out high and beautiful and then they are talking over each other.

"Gee, glad to see you too snozzles."

"Toph!" Before he's done yelling her name, he's stepped away from his sister and has swept Toph off her feet to her loud and creative complaints.

He can't help the smile that splits his face, but he doesn't step forward. He's never been good at this. Always too awkward, too different to enjoy the easy camaraderie and physicality they all shared. But he did miss being around it.

Sokka finally drops Toph when she kicks him in the shin and they turn to face him. 

"Your royal royalness." Sokka mocks dropping his head in a parody of respect. He's not even worth the energy it would take to glare.

"It's been a long time Zuko," Katara says with a small smile, coming in to give him a small hug. He smiles back and relaxes into her comforting warmth, trying to ignore the tension coming from his guards. It was illegal before the start of his reign for the fire lord to be touched in public and they still get antsy when people get close. 

"Yes, it has. The Fire Nation offers its warmest welcome Masters Katara and Toph." He replies after pulling back from her, inclining his head slightly and completing the official welcome.

Toph rolls her eyes and punches him lightly on the arm. "Ever so formal sparky." 

"Someone has to act like an adult," Zuko says, rubbing at his arm. Toph's smile is mischievous. "Glad it's not me."

They head back to the palace after their greeting, making it through a formal breakfast with several of his ministers and the fire sages before retiring to Sokka's converted office.

"My, my. I suppose I should be calling you 'special advisor to the Firelord and envoy of the water tribe'? I guess this explains why you haven't been home much." Katata says walking leisurely around the room, pausing here and there to examine the priceless little knick-knacks that dot the space.

"If you make some kumquat soup, I'll consider it even." Sokka snorts. Toph makes a gagging sound from where she has settled on the plush couch.

Katara grins, mirth dancing in her eyes, and he has to remind himself not to stare. She was always beautiful, but time has taken the girlishness from her. She is easily one of the most breathtaking women he has ever seen. _And also one of your few friends._ A voice in his head reminds him.

Zuko shakes off the thought. "It used to be my mother's office." He says with ease he could not have imagined even a year ago. "It's been empty forever and it's much more pleasant than the Firelord's office." 

"I'd bet," Toph says irreverently.

Katara turns to face him, blue eyes roaming his face before she turns to look at Sokka with the same intense regard. "So… is one of you going to explain what's going on…. Or are we gonna keep pretending everything is normal?" 

Zuko's heart skips a beat and it takes everything in him not to glance nervously at Sokka. 

"What do you mean?" he asks. His face doesn't give him away, he's sure of it. He's had a lot more practice with lying.

Toph chuckles. "Yeah, no dice sparky. Lying only works so well when there is a walking lie detector in the room."

"Plus I think your makeup is starting to smudge," Katara says, reaching a hand towards his face. Zuko leans away from her grip, avoiding the indignity of having her manhandle him like a child.

“Makeup? He’s wearing makeup?” Toph asks, a look of manic glee setting on her face. 

Katara hums lightly. "Pretty sure it's to hide what must be a pretty impressive bruise." She says, reaching for him again. 

He groans, tilting his head away and glances over to where Sokka has sat down on the same low couch next to Toph. "It's a miracle this hasn't gotten out as it is." Sokka shrugs. Zuko rolls his eyes.

"There was a break-in at the palace last night." He says shortly. 

"What?!" Both Katara and Toph yell. 

"Yup made it all the way to where the action happens." Sokka interrupts, shit-eating grin in place. Zuko glares.

"They got into my personal chambers is what the reprobate is trying to say."

"What did they want?" Toph asks, sitting up.

"Well… going by all the pointy metal involved, mostly to deliver a sternly worded message to the sitting Firelord." Sokka pipes in again. "Dear Firelord, your policies are like the stinky end of a giraffe seal. We think you should retire. Permanently. Warmest regards, assassin guild."

The image of someone breaking into his rooms to stab an unhappy letter unto his walls is unexpectedly amusing and he can't help the small smile that tugs at his lips.

"Sokka!" Katara is truly yelling now, face aghast. "This isn't funny! Someone tried to kill Zuko. Again. In his own home!"

"Come to think of it," Toph starts "Why isn't this in every major publication? I mean, the last time someone tried to kill you it was all anyone talked about for weeks."

Zuko and Sokka lock eyes again. There is a pause where neither of them says anything before Zuko lets out a heavy breath.

"Well, that's not exactly the-"

"There was another one? Another assassination attempt!" Katara says, dumbfounded. She rounds on him. "Why didn't we know?!"

Zuko holds up a placating arm. "It's not that simple Katara. There have been a few attempts on my life-" 

A dark, mutinous expression crosses her face. He raises his voice to prevent her from cutting in. "But, nothing compared to the beginning. It doesn't do to have the media and the leadership of every other territory involved in my domestic issues every time one of Ozai's cronies gets it in their head to take me out."

Katara's glare is no less intense and he feels his own frustrations rising. A part of him resents having to explain himself to someone who hasn't been present in his life in so long. A larger part of him knows that he's being ridiculous. He takes a calming breath, turning away from the hurt and anger he can read in her eyes, hoping that will help him stay calm. 

"Look," he starts. "It really had gotten better. We hadn't had a serious attempt in over a year. Then a couple of months ago some idiot tries to shoot an arrow at me while I'm touring the flood plains. It… was not well thought out and really came nowhere near me. We didn't catch the guy, but we honestly thought it was a one-off."

"Until last night," Sokka adds. Zuko nods slowly. 

"Until last night. Someone broke into the palace, drugged a few of my guards and attacked me in my chambers. This was more methodical. More detailed."

"Still amateur hour though as they didn't expect him to put up such a fight." Zuko chuckles at Sokka's commentary. Feeling braver than before, he sneaks a glance up to find Katara looking curiously at her brother, chewing her lip.

"Did you catch the guy?" Toph asks, to the point as always. Neither Sokka nor Zuko responds. Katara huffs.

"Then why the hush hush? The public may be able to help with an ongoing investigation."

A knock on the door interrupts the conversation. Sokka opens the door and steps out into the hallway to talk to whoever it is, leaving Zuko to answer Katara. Traitor. Zuko can't fully blame him though, he knows Sokka agrees with Katara's assessment and that if he tries to defend this decision, she'll sense the weakness.

Zuko pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to think past the burgeoning headache at his temple from this conversation, from lack of sleep and from, quite honestly, just the general direction of his life. He just wants to go back to bed at this point.

"This is the first treaty being held on fire nation soil since the end of the war. Given that whoever is behind this took care not to hurt anyone else, I'm pretty sure I'm the only target, but if word got out that the palace security had been breached? Foreign dignitaries would pull out, it would be damaging to the nation and damaging to the treaty. It is important that the treaty and the festival go off smoothly." He knows he probably sounds pleading at this point, but he needs both her and Toph to _get_ this.

Sokka steps back in with a grimace. "Some dignitaries from Omashu are going to be arriving shortly. Your escort is here to get you." 

Zuko nods jerkily at him feeling exhaustion settle deep into his bones. He can't believe his day is only half over. With a muttered apology and a reminder to 'touch up his makeup', he beats a hasty retreat.

*************************

Sokka watches Zuko leave with no small amount of worry for his friend and rising dread for himself. Zuko is tired. He knows this. Zuko had been tired before someone tried to make a kebab out of him last night and it hasn’t really gotten better since then. He understands Zuko’s stance on keeping this as quiet as possible and letting the palace guard and security services do their jobs, he really does, but he can’t shake the feeling that something is not right. 

As soon as the door closes, Katara whirls on him. Stern expression firmly in place. He plasters on his best easy smile and slouches over to pour them all a glass of the sweet ale that seems to be in every room of the palace. 

“So, where’s Aang? I thought he was coming with you guys? Is he coming with Suki later tonight?” Sokka tries, redirecting the conversation. He glances up and Katara still has her ‘I have judged you and found you wanting’ face that she wears so well on, and Toph is picking at her fingernails. Fantastic. 

“Sokka-”

“No, don’t Sokka me.” He cuts her off, rather more irritably than he intended to. He guesses Zuko isn’t the only one that is tired. “Look I know what you are going to say and I get it, I do.” He continues, handing the glasses he poured to her and Toph, then taking a generous gulp from his own. “But contrary to what you might think, I do actually work for him. Honest. There is a contract and all.”

Katara sips at the ale, keeping her bright eyes trained on him. It makes him feel like some sort of field insect that is being studied. He sighs.

“He doesn’t want this to get out Tara. We have put a not inconsiderable amount of effort into ensuring that no one but the security services knows about the assassination attempts. The nation is finally at a place where it seems stable. I can’t blame the guy for wanting to keep that as it is.”

Katara sips the ale some more, the intensity behind her eyes coming down a notch. “Why now?” she asks darkly. 

Sokka shrugs. “My best guess is with the treaty looming, the possibility of mass relocations is shifting closer to reality. It's highly unpopular in the Kingdom and someone clearly thinks if a change is going to be made, it needs to be made now. “

Sokka sips at his ale again, savouring the earthy-sweet flavour, allowing the alcohol to help unwind some of the tension he has been carrying with him since last night. Katara sighs and flops into the couch, almost on top of Toph.

“I haven’t seen Aang in three months.” She pronounces.

Sokka’s eyebrows make a beeline for his hairline before he can control his facial expressions, and he very nearly chokes on the ale in his mouth. “Oh?” he says lightly, having no clue where to go with that information. His sister rolls her eyes at him. 

“Try not to swallow your tongue Sokka.” She mutters. “He’s been busy and I’ve had my hands full with training and stuff. We write often but… he handles the break up better when he’s not around me.” She ends, a strange, sad smile clouding her features. It pulls at something inside of him and knots it into an uncomfortable ball to see his baby sister look so small and lost. A part of him really wants to punch Aang in his Avatar face, but he knows the kid tried to make her happy and is probably as confused as Sokka is about the break-up.

“Spirits! Are we getting old or were we always this boring?” Toph spits out. “We’ve been here half a day and it feels like all we’ve done is ruddy well moped.” That startles a laugh out of Katara. 

Sokka groans. “Ugh, she’s right. This is depressing. The day is still young. Caldera city awaits. Let’s find something interesting to do before we rot away and start complaining about lower back pain.”

He chugs the last of his ale and pulls both women to their feet, wrapping an arm over each and pulling Katara close enough to kiss the top of her head. Toph gags dramatically as Katara flails, her laugh echoing far into the palace.

*************************

She waits for the sun to sink low in the horizon again, for the shadows to elongate and for all the good little fireboys and firegirls to be nestled in bed before she tries to move. The last day has been painful and hard, but do not even begin to compare to the worst days of her life. 

It takes her longer than expected to slink off the palace grounds. Security has clearly been tightened, but they are preoccupied with keeping people from getting in, not preventing someone from getting out. By the time she has managed to climb their walls and skirt their patrols, making her way down into the city, the oppressive humidity of early spring has soaked into her clothes, causing her dark tunic to stick uncomfortably to her skin. 

The walk from the edge of the palace grounds to the edge of Caldera city isn’t long, but it’s enough to give her time to think. She hadn’t expected him to be a skilled fighter. A talented bender, yes, but not one able to outmanoeuvre her blade. She can’t help but replay over and over again every instance in which she failed. The rage that has made a home beneath her skin skitters along her nerve endings, leaving an unnatural itch in its path. They must have known and should have told her. They speak of him, their boy king as if he is an invalid. She should have known better than to trust the words of a firestarter. 

She slides down an alley, taking care to avoid the lit overhead lanterns and to stick near the walls, where barely treated sewage mixes with effluent from overly large bags of refuse. This is a commercial area, filled with restaurants and shops, both high end and lower class. An area where no one will look twice at a young girl who seems to have nowhere to go. If she is right, and when it comes to maps she always is, she is less than a block from a potential safe house, hopefully somewhere she can rest and heal. At that thought, the ache in her forearm spikes again, shooting electric shocks up and down her arm. She can barely move her wrist without feeling like the soft fabric of her long sleeves is tearing through her delicate flesh. 

It had taken her hours to pick most of the cloth from her wounds and to wash them as well as she could while hiding in the cave. All while the moritas-damned palace guard searched for her. She had seen them, crisscrossing the royal grounds in a piss poor imitation of a search, never once thinking to look further into the grounds instead of further out. Satisfaction flows through her, like a cool, deep river, taking the edge off some of her anger. The firestarters think they are the best in the world at everything, think themselves so superior, yet they couldn’t even find an elephant-rat on their own grounds. 

She reaches the end of the alleyway and peaks out. A young couple walks slowly down the main, hand in hand, smiling foolishly at each other. She waits for them to cross the road and duck into a nearby restaurant before she turns right, hiking her hood a little further over her head as she trudges past closed storefronts. She keeps her head down and her gait relaxed, slipping easily down the road and into another dark alley. 

She peeks over her shoulder to make sure no one is watching her or following her before she knocks on a small, nondescript red door. 

Dear God, must everything in this country be fucking red. 

She hears a small click before a panel in the door slides open. The face of a young man with dull brown eyes pops into her view. His gaze sweeps up and down her form before he frowns. 

“We are closed. Come back tomorrow.” He mutters and she gets the sense that he is reaching for whatever contraption closes the little panel. Her heart leaps into her throat. She has survived on her own so far, but she knows without some help, the wounds on her hands will start to fester and infection will set in. 

“Wait!” she hisses at him. “It is weary at night for a lone traveller. Safety is found with the warmth of others.” The man behind the door freezes and his gaze turns intense. She wonders how long she will be forced to stand here waiting for him to make his decision. She wonders what she will do if he refuses her aid. 

She doesn’t have to solve that problem tonight though, a minute later he swings the door open and ushers her inside. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even moving together, they are a study in contrasts. Aang moves lightly through the katas, ever the airbender, making it look to all the world like he's dancing. Zuko's moves are direct and aggressive. Muscles bunching and pulling with raw power, giving the impression of barely controlled violence. She finds it hard to tear her eyes away from him, cataloging the changes she's missed in the last 2 years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready for the second installment?! Thanks to everyone who has read and left comments so far. Special shout out to my lovely beta reader @JewFlexive. As always, tell me what you think. Comments are love.

Zuko does not make it to his new rooms until the quarter moon has been in the sky for hours. He's tired again, or more accurately, still. Several dignitaries had arrived today in preparation for the treaty negotiations which would start on Monday, not the least of whom was the Avatar himself. Zuko can't help the smile that tugs at his lips at the thought of his friend. He saw Aang the most frequently out of all of them today, save Sokka, but it had still been nearly a year since he had last seen him. 

Zuko wanders through the bedroom, peeping into the closets, and is pleasantly surprised to see that all his clothes have already been relocated. He pulls off the ceremonial robes that he has been wearing all day and tugs his crown from his topknot, loosening his hair. With every bit of the Fire Lord that is removed, he feels a little more like himself. The memory of getting to spend almost an hour catching up with everyone after Aang and Appa landed, all while trying to avoid having Appa slobber all over him, goes a long way in helping to settle him. Zuko has to admit that as much stress and angst as this treaty and the accompanying festival has caused him, he couldn't help but be a little grateful that it was bringing Team Avatar back together. 

He lets those thoughts warm him and keep him going as he goes through his nightly routine. He’s so lost in his own head, he barely hears the knock at the door to his rooms, and actually stands stock still for a few minutes, head cocked to the side listening. Another small knock sounds and he hurries into the sitting room. The very last person he expects to be at his door is Katara. 

“Hey, Zuko.”

His mind goes unhelpfully blank and he’s sure he’s making a ridiculous face at her. “Hey, Katara… what, what are you doing here?” 

She rolls her eyes at him and huffs out a breath, pushing past him into his room. “I’m here to help, obviously,” she states flatly, turning on her heel and staring at him. 

Admittedly Zuko is not at his best today, but he feels especially out of his depth. He leans back on the door, pushing it closed quietly, all the while staring at her. He’s pretty sure she is in what constitutes pyjamas in the South Pole. Thin leggings curve up from her strong calves, disappearing under a lightweight, long-sleeved shift the colour of the setting sun. With her hair up in a messy bun, and water from her bath still clinging to her neck, it is the most dressed down he has seen her in years. He knows he’s probably staring a bit. 

“Help? With what?” he asks, relieved when his voice comes out sounding normal. She frowns at him like he’s slow. In her defence, he probably is. 

“Your bruises.” She says slowly, pointing at her own chin. “I figure your next few days will go a lot better if you aren’t worried about your makeup. Plus… it probably hurts.” 

It finally clicks. Healing him. She is talking about healing him. The fact that it would occur to her when it hadn’t even crossed his mind makes his heart feel like it has grown three sizes and a warm flush spreads up from his chest. “You really don’t have to,” he finds himself saying. 

Katara shrugs, her gaze dropping to her feet. “I know. But I’d like to.” 

He nods solemnly, stepping away from the door. “Okay. The bathroom is right through there.” 

She follows him through the bedroom, her gaze trailing about the space. He pours water from an ornate jug in the corner of the room into a wide, open bowl, moving to sit with it in the middle of the room. She comes to kneel beside him, legs folding gracefully underneath her. She reaches for his face again, this time stopping a few centimeters from his skin. 

“May I?” she asks quietly. He nods. Her warm fingers grasp his chin softly, moving his face this way and that, examining the impressive bruises that trace down his right cheek, darkening the sharp angle of his jaw. He breathes through the discomfort of having a hand this close to his face, berating himself for being so sensitive. 

“Is this the only damage?” Katara's voice is quieter than it needs to be but somehow seems to fit the mood that has descended over them. 

“Um, no. There are some bruises along my ribs and down my back.” 

She leans away from him, gesturing for him to remove his tunic and it takes everything in him to fight the blush willing itself unto his skin. When he is bared to her, she hisses through her teeth, surveying his skin. 

“Tui and La, Zuko. You’ve been walking around with these all day?” The rough pads of her fingers trace down the side of his ribs, following their curve to splay her warm palm against his back. There is no reason for his nerve endings to light up like it’s the summer solstice under her fingers. It’s just Katara, he reminds his traitorous body. Katara, who has spent hours healing him. Katara who has watched him train. Katara, who could kill him with the power she has in her smallest finger. 

“It hasn’t been my best day,” he says simply, focused on keeping his face and voice neutral. Agni, if this is enough to throw him for a loop, maybe Sokka is right and he does need to get laid. 

Katara swirls her hands through the air, drawing the water from the bowl to coat her hands before placing them over his skin. Soon a strange feeling, like his blood is flowing backwards, tugs underneath his skin as she starts working. 

“You changed your rooms," she says softly, trying to make small talk. He takes care not to shrug, remembering that moving under her hands when she was healing was typically met with violence. 

“Kinda. My rooms are being repaired,” he glances up at her over his shoulder, “There are scorch marks.”

She smiles distractedly. “Of course there are. Lift this.” She taps his right arm. He obeys and the strange sensation under his skin follows her hands. He doesn’t know what else to say after that, the silence sitting heavy and bitter on his tongue. He glances up at her again and she is staring intently at what her hands are doing. His eyes trace the contours of her face, noting how… relaxed she looks, her eyes light and bright like perhaps she had found some semblance of peace for herself. 

“I know it’s been a long time Katara, but you look good.” It doesn’t hit him until the words are out his mouth, how flirty he sounds. This time he can’t keep the blush from rising to his cheeks. Her small smile widens. “Not, not like that. Not like, you know, you look hot or anything--” he immediately realises how dumb that sounds and starts course-correcting furiously-- “not that you don’t, it’s just that I don’t, I mean, well--”

Katara is giggling by this point and he is certain that the flush has spread down his neck into his chest. He drops his head and groans. It only makes her laugh harder. He looks back up after a long moment to find that she is staring at him. 

“I only meant you look calm and confident, and I don’t know, somehow, not lost," he finishes with a crooked smile. Her eyes don’t leave his, and he watches how the compliment affects her with no small amount of satisfaction. 

“Thank you, Zuko,” she says, shuffling to sit in front of him. She gestures towards his face and he knows she’s warning him that she’s going to touch him there again. “I think… I think I’ve enjoyed what I’ve been doing the last few months,” she continues. “I’m not sure I knew what to do after the war. It seemed like everyone knew where they were supposed to be and I didn’t. But helping to set up the hospital networks and working with the younger benders… it feels right, you know?” 

He does know. He can see it in her face. The spark that had been dulled in the years directly after the war makes her glow as she speaks. He wonders if leaving Aang behind has anything to do with its return. 

Her eyes stay locked on his as she finishes with bruises on his face. It feels like she’s looking through him, or more accurately, into him. The moment drags on and he finds himself wondering what exactly she sees when she looks at him like that. 

“All done." she announces, but her healing hand is still hovering over him while the other still lightly holds his chin in place. He waits for a beat or two before he clears his throat and pulls slightly away from her. That seems to bring her back to herself, breaking whatever moment that was. She bends the water back into the bowl and busies herself with cleaning it up. 

Zuko watches her for a brief moment, trying to puzzle through what just happened before he puts it out of his mind. He gets up and examines his face in the mirror over his sink. The bags under his eyes that seem to have taken up residence on his face the second he put on his crown are still there and he desperately needs a shave, but he has to admit that he looks much better without the bruises. 

He walks her to the door of his chambers, it is only polite after all. “Thank you again, Katara, really.”

“Don’t mention it,” she replies with a smile as she leaves. 

“Hey, Zuko?” The door is almost closed when he hears her call his name. He pulls it back and she is barely down the hall, facing him again. 

“Yeah?”

She chews her lip, eyes surveying him for a minute, a peculiar expression on her face. “Never mind," she finally says. "Good night.” 

With that, Katara is gone. 

Shrugging off Katara’s strange behaviour, he finishes preparing for bed in record time and is just sinking into the silk sheets when he hears another knock at the door to the sitting room. For one very gratifying moment, he considers burning the entire palace to the ground in a fit of pique, but he knows that it would just become his responsibility to rebuild it. 

He also seriously considers crying.

Raging against all that is good and holy, he pulls himself out of bed, foregoing his typical robes because if someone is waking him at this time of night, after the day he’s had, they will deal with him in whatever clothes he is wearing. 

The knock sounds again and Zuko mutters an obscenity under his breath. He swings the door open rather more aggressively than he needs to and almost swallows his tongue to prevent the curse sitting at its tip from escaping. 

“Zenia? What’s wrong?” His heart leaps into his chest at her appearance, his mind already dreaming up a thousand different scenarios that would necessitate the Captain of the Guard being at his door this late. 

She shakes her head, sensing where his thoughts have gone. “Nothing has happened, my lord. I came instead to give a few updates regarding the incident last night. I can come back if you would like.” Zenia ends her sentence in the same tone that she started it, but there is something about it nonetheless that leaves him feeling… judged. He knows that the feeling lives almost exclusively in his head and that Zenia has the utmost respect for him, at least he thinks so, but there is something about her that demands attention, that dares everyone else to live up to her meticulous standards.

“No, of course not," he says, stepping away from the door. "Come in.” He gestures to the low couches that adorn every sitting room in the palace and takes a seat at the far end. Zenia steps in stiffly, her short, sharp steps echoing through the lightly furnished room as she perches uncomfortably at the end of the couch. Almost five years into his reign and he still cannot get his staff to treat him like a person. A problem for another day, he supposes. 

“There were five guards who were drugged in preparation for the breach,” she starts. “They were drugged with something called angel dust. It’s a street drug, causes a mild high in low concentrations. In higher concentrations, it will cause unconsciousness and loss of memory. We see it used sometime in kidnappings and in trafficking.”

“Any idea where it would have come from?” Zuko interrupts. 

She frowns. “Unfortunately no. It’s too common to trace a seller. More concerning, however, is that the time of onset is almost forty-five minutes and it doesn’t hit fully for about sixty-five minutes.” Zenia gives him an intense look and he just knows he’s not going to like the next thing she says. “Your guards switch at 11 P.M. The attack happened at approximately 11:15. Most of the guards were not on the palace grounds an hour before that.” 

The coil of tension that has been resting uncomfortably somewhere near his chest all day tightens and sinks lower into his gut. A shock of cold is suddenly weighing down his limbs and he has to remind himself to breathe past the panic. 

“What does that mean?” Zuko asks, impressed that it comes out much more calmly than he feels. 

Zenia makes paralysing eye contact. “It means five of our guards were drugged either at home or on their way in. It means someone knows where our guards live, how they get to work, and where they are stationed. It means this is much more involved than we had hoped.” 

********************

"Zuko. Zuko! Come on, Zuko, I know you're awake." Aang's voice comes floating to him through his subconscious. 

Zuko can't help the groan that escapes his lips as he rolls over in bed. He cracks an eye to meet the familiar shape of Aang standing in his dark bedchamber. 

Not a dream then. He groans again.

"Aang what are you doing here? Don't I have guards for this?" he mutters, burying his face into the soft silk of his bedroll. He feels like he went to sleep only ten minutes ago. 

"Oh come on, sifu. I thought you ‘rise with the sun’." Aang says with much too much energy. Zuko feels his bed dip where Aang sits and closes his eyes even more tightly.

"I hate you," Zuko mutters, refusing to move. "The sun isn't even up yet." 

"Your personal aide said you usually practice your bending at sunrise a few times a week. I figured I could use some fire bending practice with my master," Aang says brightly. He thinks he's being real cute and persuasive, Zuko knows. Zuko is not impressed.

He finagles an arm from under his covers and points it in the general direction of Aang's voice. "As your former master, I hereby declare you a master," Zuko grunts as his arm falls back onto the bed. He curls onto his side with his back towards Aang. "Tell me how it goes," he mutters, firmly intending to go back to sleep.

"Are you trying to say I have nothing else to learn from you, sifu Hotman?" 

Zuko can hear Aang's shit-eating grin. 

"I will kill you," Zuko growls at him, unamused. "I'm the Fire Lord. I have that power." 

"Eh, I'll take my chances," Aang says cheerfully. Zuko hears him moving closer to him a second before he feels his sheets pulled completely off his body. "You weren't going to sleep much longer anyway and you know it. Sunrise is, like, ten minutes away," Aang argues, too fucking reasonably for how tired Zuko is.

Time has taught Zuko that he's nothing if not a pragmatist and he knows how Aang gets when he wants something. He lost this argument the moment Yun told the Avatar of his morning routine. Zuko lets out a defeated sigh and finally opens his eyes, getting a face full of Avatar for his efforts. 

"Personal space, Aang," he complains, pushing himself into a sitting position on the bed while rubbing blearily at his eyes. "And if you call me sifu Hotman again, I will tell my guards to confine you to the guest rooms." 

Aang just beams at him. 

*****************

It's the noise that draws Katara out to the courtyard. She is, of course, used to the wide variety of sounds that come with bending, especially traveling with Aang as much as she did, but even now, years after everything, Aang tends to avoid fire bending. As she stumbles towards the kitchens, testing how well she remembers the layout of the palace and purposefully not thinking about how long it's been since her last visit, she hears the crackle and sizzle of flames and smells the faint traces of ash and ozone that tend to accompany firebending and can't help but follow her senses.

Katara expects students to be bending in the courtyard. She has heard that Zuko has made large sections of the palace open to public use, though she did not expect it to be this far into the grounds. At the very least she expects it to be some of the theatrical benders that seem to be entertainment at most of the official state functions stealing some time and attention while practicing. What she does not expect is to see the Avatar and the Fire Lord moving in tandem through some of the more basic firebending katas. 

She blinks for a moment, staring over the railing into the spacious courtyard. She takes in the hardy concrete tiles that line much of the area, bracketed in by four small fountains in each corner, connected by several rows of small, bright flowers. Zuko and Aang are moving together, as if they are of one mind and body, pulling delicately through some movements before pushing out aggressively. 

And just like that, it's like no time has passed. She's a terrified child about to risk everything, watching her friends try so hard to learn so much in the most beautiful home she's ever seen. Her breath gets caught somewhere in the back of her throat as she moves closer to the railing, unable to look away.

Aang is dressed simply, in what she would be willing to guess are his sleep pants, the thin white material making him look tanner in the morning light. Zuko is, of course, wearing black-- loose exercise trousers with seams of deep red running up the sides and she can tell even from this distance that they are made of fine, expensive silk. The dark shade of his clothing making Zuko's skin appear almost delicate and paler than usual. 

Even moving together, they are a study in contrasts. Aang moves lightly through the katas, ever the airbender, making it look to all the world like he's dancing. Zuko's moves are direct and aggressive, his muscles bunching and pulling with raw power, giving the impression of barely controlled violence. She finds it hard to tear her eyes away from him, cataloguing the changes she's missed in the last two years. He's grown in the interim and is taller than her father now, possibly even taller than his father. He has let his hair grow out, and it falls in long, ink-black tendrils that flow past shoulders wider than she remembers. Either the increased height or his constant workload has left him thinner than before, sharpening the angles of his face. He looks less like the boy she knew and more like a man. He and Aang twist together, sending great plumes of flames into a high circle. Together they make a stunning picture.

"Katara, Katara!" 

She almost misses the sound of her name, lost as she is in her thoughts. She looks up to see Suki waving her over to where she stands, with Toph sitting on a bench behind her.

"Suki! When did you get here?" Katara asks happily, hugging her tightly.

"Ridiculously early this morning… or late last night depending on how you look at it," she replies tiredly.

"Why are you up so early then?" Katara asks, pulling away to lean against the railing. 

Suki's eyes drift back down into the courtyard, a small smirk playing at her lips. "Because I have the best boyfriend who told me I'd miss a good show if I didn't get breakfast at the ass crack of dawn."

"Was this planned then?" Katara asks, allowing her gaze to be drawn back to the two men in the square. She frowns lightly. Aang had not mentioned any plans for this, not that he needed to tell her of all his actions. 

Suki's smile dims. "Not planned, per se, but apparently Zuko does this pretty frequently. But with everything that's been happening recently…" Suki trails off. Katara glances over and sees a small frown work its way around the corners of her mouth.

"Well in any case, ‘special advisor to the Fire Lord’ Sokka, told Yun to drop some well-placed hints to the Avatar. I guess Sokka decided Zuko could use the break." Suki's smirk returns and Katara can see her eyes focusing once again on the display below them. "And he realised his girlfriend would appreciate the show. What a show it is."

Suki's voice takes on a low, teasing quality and Katara can't help the blush that she feels rising to her cheeks. She glances over her shoulder to Toph, who seems to have fallen asleep sitting on the bench.

"Time has been damn good to Zuko," Suki says tilting her head, and Katara can almost feel the heat in Suki's gaze as her eyes trace his form.

"Suki!" Katara cries, scandalized. "You're dating my brother!"

"Who I love and adore and am quite satisfied by, thank you very much--" Suki begins reasonably.

"Oh, ew!" Katara interjects.

"But I am not dead… or blind I guess," Suki states, throwing a considering glance over to Toph.

"Well, I am blind and I'd still bend that fire," Toph replies, apparently far less asleep than Katara had assumed.

"Toph!" Katara's face is well and truly aflame now.

"Oh, pipe down, Sugar Queen. You think the average heart rate in this room is due to the impressive display of bending or is it that most everyone here would pay to see what he could do with--"

"Thank you, Toph!" Katara interrupts with a note of finality. She ignores the little chuckle coming from behind her as they settle back into silence.

Katara lets her gaze drift back over to the courtyard. The sun is getting higher in the sky and their flames are getting higher and hotter in response, the late spring air becoming hot and dry the longer they practice. Even from this distance, she can see the sweat beginning to drip from both of them. 

She can't help but notice how the half of Zuko's hair that is not restrained by his top knot, has started to stick to the skin of his shoulders. Her eyes trace the outline of muscle and sinew moving under the unblemished skin of his back. 

He executes a complex flip, fire shooting from his heels as they go over his head and suddenly she's staring at his scar... the second scar given to him by people who should have loved him. It's healed better than Aang's has. The skin is still red and angry looking at his sternum where he took the hit, but the tendrils at the outside of the scar have become a much lighter pink, barely noticeable as they crisscross his upper abdomen. She wonders if they are rough to the touch, if soft fingers gliding over his skin would notice the difference, or if the years and treatments have left them as smooth as the rest of him. 

She shakes her head to clear it of that train of thought. She shouldn't be thinking of Zuko like that. 

"He's not the only one out there," Katara says lightly, trying to defend her… trying to defend Aang.

"Yeah, and Aang is looking damn good too, but a part of me will always see him as my kid brother, you know?" Suki shrugs before looking over at Katara again with a sly smirk. "Well, I guess you don't."

Katara doesn't rise to the bait.

In the courtyard Aang and Zuko drop into a crouch, sweeping their legs out against an imaginary target with a wall of fire. They rear up immediately after, stretching long arms behind and then over their heads, throwing fireballs from their palms. She knows these moves. They are about to end.

"How long will you be here Suki? Also, where is Sokka?" Katara asks, moving away from the railing and the temptation to watch either of them too closely.

Suki sighs rather dreamily, still staring at Zuko. Katara rolls her eyes.

"I'm gonna be here until after the peace summit at least. Ty Lee has been leading the warriors back home, so I don't need to rush back," Suki finally says. "And Sokka is probably still in bed. He woke me up but never left," Suki's smile takes on a softer quality, "said he gets to see Zuko half-naked enough as it is."

A sharp snort of laughter escapes Toph. Katara turns to give her an unimpressed glare that she is sure Toph can feel. By the time she turns back around Zuko and Aang are rising from a deep, formal bow. The session is over. She can read the decreased tension in Zuko's movements. Her brother knows him well.

"What about you?" Suki asks, finally moving away from the railing. Katara starts them moving down the hall that will take them to the dining rooms.

“Definitely until after the treaty and the festival, but I have no plans after that. I was thinking about traveling for a bit. Maybe visiting the hospitals within the network in the Fire Nation.” The official dining room is bustling by the time they walk in, servers moving swiftly to replace empty cartons of milk and replenish trays full of cheese, smoked meats, and fruits. It smells heavenly. She recognizes the dignitaries from Omashu, Young-Jae, and Dae-Min from prior summits and bows lightly to them from across the room. 

“Traveling again? I thought part of your… past troubles were with traveling too much,” Suki says casually, examining the food around them. Katara’s mouth thins into a rather severe line. She is not fooled by Suki’s nonchalance and she doesn’t want to talk about her… separation from Aang. She’s not sure she can explain what they were missing because she’s not sure she can explain what she is looking for. 

“Times change,” she answers just as causally.

Suki only smirks. 

The rest of breakfast goes smoothly enough, though she doesn’t see Aang, Zuko, or her brother the entire time. Instead, she catches up with Suki, listening with rapt attention as she talks about the new fighting styles they have been incorporating into the Kyoshi Warriors and how many royal and private customers they now guard. It is easy to see the pride and joy Suki gets from her work and Katara is glad for it.

They finish with breakfast soon enough and are wandering back to the guest wing, contemplating a sparring match between the three of them when she notices a very familiar grey top knot walking leisurely down an adjacent hallway. Her grin almost splits her face in half. 

“Uncle Iroh!” 

He turns to face her immediately, a warm smile brightening his features. “Master Katara! And with Leader Suki and Master Toph! How blessed I must be, indeed.” He moves quickly to meet them, gracing each with a tight hug.

“Not that I’m not tickled to see you Uncle-” Toph starts rather gruffly, “--but I thought you weren’t going to be here for another two days.” 

Uncle smiles broadly again and opens his mouth to speak when a familiar voice shouts his name from behind them. Zuko is walking briskly towards them, a rare full smile on his features, making his golden eyes twinkle like a burst of sunlight. Katara finds that she cannot look away. It is so rare to see such happiness on his face and she is not immune to the picture it paints. 

“Nephew! How lovely to see you!” Iroh yells, enveloping Zuko in a massive hug. 

“What are you doing here? You’re here early,” Zuko says, and it may be her imagination but she’s sure she catches just an edge of… something in his voice. Uncle chuckles good-naturedly. 

“I thought I would surprise my favourite nephew! It brings me great joy to see you, my boy,” Uncle responds genially, two large hands coming to cup Zuko’s face. Katara is sure she can see the barest hints of red rising to Zuko’s cheeks. 

“It is quite the surprise. Does the palace guard even know you're here? You're walking around without a guard.” 

Katara narrows her eyes at Zuko. There it is again in his voice. Worry, she thinks. He sounds worried. If Iroh notices he doesn't comment. 

“Nonsense, nephew. This is still my home. I have no need for a guard's protection in my own home. Come, let us catch up. I have missed you greatly.” 

Zuko’s face falls a little at that. “I would love to, Uncle, but I have a meeting with the economic advisors in about ten minutes. I’ll be free after, though.”

Uncle’s smile doesn’t falter. “Do not worry, nephew. You are busy with worthy pursuits. I can entertain myself until you are free.” 

Zuko nods easily as Toph steps in. “Come on, Uncle. Let’s get you all registered with the guards before Sparky here has a conniption about protocol. He’s getting less and less fun with each visit.” 

Iroh laughs out loud at that, wrapping Toph’s arm around his elbow as they walk down the hall. 

Katara waits for a moment until they, or at least Iroh, are out of earshot. 

“I thought you said it was only you at risk.” 

Zuko groans, dropping an arm on her back and shepherding her into an empty room nearby, leaving his guards outside. Suki makes a confused noise but follows behind them. 

“I still think it is only me at risk,” he whispers softly, pulling the door closed. 

Suki looks between them for a moment, frowning. “What are we talking about?” she asks irritably. 

Katara scowls at him. “You didn’t tell her!” she says harshly. 

“Tell me what?” Suki asks darkly. 

Zuko makes a choking noise, that she isn’t sure was ever intended to be a word before rallying. “I didn’t see her when she came in this morning. This is the first time I’m seeing her. Hello, by the way, Suki. It’s great to see you.” 

Suki narrows her eyes at him. Playing dumb will not get him very far right now, Katara knows. 

“Tell me what?” she asks again. Zuko rolls his eyes and makes a ‘go ahead’ gesture with his hand to Katara. She takes that as her cue.

“There was an assassination attempt on Zuko two nights ago. No one but the palace guard and Caldera city peacekeepers knows about it. Oh, and us. Zuko wants it kept quiet.”

Suki whirls on Zuko. “What?! Why didn’t Sokka tell me? Did you tell him not to tell me?!”

Zuko holds up a placating arm. “No, I didn’t tell him not to tell you. He probably didn’t because you came in this morning and he was probably distracted for a while after that.” Zuko says, innuendo heavy in his voice. Katara makes a face. 

It does seem to placate Suki a bit. “Have you caught the guy?” she asks, plowing right along. Zuko groans in response.

“No, he hasn’t.” Katara answers for him. 

“But we will,” he interjects crossly. For a moment all three of them stand in the empty room, just regarding each other. 

Katara breaks first. “If no one else is at risk, why the freak out with Uncle?”

He scowls. “I didn’t freak out,” he whines. 

Katara raises an eyebrow. 

“There is a very, very small chance that the royal lineage may be what they are after, not just me in particular,” he says finally. 

Katara rolls that thought around in her head, looking at it from different angles. It still doesn’t make sense. “Iroh abdicated. He’s not in the line of succession anymore,” she says.

Zuko nods impatiently. “I know that and you know that but whoever is trying to kebab me might not.”

“Kebab you?!” Suki interrupts. Zuko ignores her. 

“Technically if I die without an heir, the Fire Sages appoint the next Fire Lord. They could in theory choose Iroh to keep our family in power... if that’s even something they would want.” The last part is muttered almost under his breath. 

She takes another good look at him. He’s back in his regalia, topknot perfect and crown in place. He isn’t moving with the stiffness that she noticed yesterday, she assumes the healing helped. Still, something is off about him. Even after his workout this morning, he seems tense again. There was a time after the war when his crown was still new and seemed to rest uncomfortably on his head, that she knew him like the back of her hand. The Agni Kai with his sister had left them closer than the others. Some days she worried that it left them closer than they should have been. 

She clears her throat, moving away from that thought. “I can’t help feeling that something has spooked you,” She says matter-of-factly. He makes eye contact with her and she holds his gaze. “I’d bet that Toph noticed it too, seeing as she moved Uncle along.”

There is a soft knock at the door to the little chamber they had taken over. His guards probably, reminding him of his meeting. 

“There have been some developments. We’ll all need to talk later,” he says, slipping further into his Fire Lord persona. Katara nods, watching as he walks gracefully to the door and exits, a trio of guards flanking him. 

She turns to find Suki chewing on the inside of her lip, her face giving nothing away.

“What are you thinking?” she asks. 

Suki doesn’t respond for a beat then walks out the door, Katara following behind her as she finally says, “I’m thinking we give the guard leadership a visit.”

*************************

The heat is unpleasant and wet. The regular late afternoon humidity hangs in the air, blanketing the entire Caldera with a muggy, sea-scented heaviness. She wishes it would just rain already. She has had to ditch her preferred black long sleeves for something lighter in colour and fabric. She needs to blend in here.

She resists the urge to pick at the almost transparent, cream coloured fabric that covers her arms. The blouse is light and airy, hanging loosely around her breasts but cinching in at the waist with a splash of deep burgundy fabric. Her caretaker had thrown the blouse roughly at her this morning, along with instructions that she was to meet with the Meha of their little operation. There was nothing wrong with her dark trousers, so they completed her outfit. She had been instructed to wait for him in one of the many public squares that seem to dot Caldera City. She surveys the area around her, watching children dance around carved dragon statues with glittering emerald eyes while their parents examine the wares of street vendors selling everything from snacks to clothing to jewelry. She bought her lunch from one of these vendors, trading coin that wasn't hers for a komodo frank. She looks down at the sizzling meat giving off a warm, sweet scent. She hasn’t had it before, but many in the little square seem to be carrying the little sticks and no one seems unhappy with them.

She takes a small nibble at the end as she notes someone new entering the square. The spicy-sweet flavour riots across her tongue and she can't stop a little sound of stunned pleasure from leaving her throat. The meat is perfectly cooked. Crispy on the outside while still being tender and flavour full on the inside. She hums contemplatively. Maybe the Fire Nation can do something right after all.

She keeps watch of the new stranger from the corner of her eyes as he wanders through the square, rather aimlessly. He's tall and well dressed with sure, quick steps but this seems to be a place filled with women and children. He stands out. 

He approaches her as she finishes the last of her food, giving her a warm but detached smile as he takes a seat across from her at the little table she had claimed as her own.

"A pleasant afternoon to you, miss," he says, smiling and eying her up and down with interest. Ugh. It makes her skin crawl. She glances over at him, taking in flawless skin covering an oval-shaped face with a straight nose and full lips all topped off with golden eyes. Probably a bender then. Her eyes narrow coldly.

"I am not interested, sir," she says severely. His smile only widens. 

"Oh, I think you are," he replies, moving his hands onto the table. A piece of red silk cloth covers both his wrists, tying in a complicated but stylish knot. The material clearly matches what is around her waist. She fights the urge to roll her eyes. These people have clearly watched one too many overly dramatized plays.

She surveys the small crowd around them, making sure no overly eager ears are nearby.

"You disappointed us," he starts. "With all your experience we had expected a solution to our difficulties."

She scowls, refusing to look at him as anger burns in the pit of her stomach. "I was told he had no training." she hisses at him. "The fight I had was against a skilled soldier, not a spoilt child." 

"Are you saying whatever minor training he has had outmatches you?" the bender responds mildly. Her hackles rise. Typical firestarter. Screws up his job and is looking to blame everyone else for his own errors. She turns to face him, meeting his eyes.

"I was ill-prepared before, it will not happen again," she pronounces holding his gaze. He looks away first. Some part of her rejoices at that little victory.

He hums. "It will not happen for a while in any case. We cannot make such an aggressive move while the Avatar and his masters are here." 

The words drop like lead in her heart. No. They can't just stop. She will not lose her chance. She came to this piece of shit continent for the opportunity to avenge her family. She will see the brat die.

"And that's it? We sit here and twiddle our thumbs waiting for the Avatar to get distracted and leave?" she snaps harshly.

The man's smile goes steely. "Now, now. I never said that."


End file.
